


Wanted: Sick, But Alive

by EmetoOmo



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Emetophilia, Gen, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 17:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15611535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmetoOmo/pseuds/EmetoOmo
Summary: Jesse thinks it’s hunger, but it’s most definitely something more flu-y.





	Wanted: Sick, But Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline - Blackwatch Era
> 
> Author’s Note - Left it ambiguous as to romantic ties here, so the reader could fill in the blanks for their preference.
> 
> Warning: Graphic depictions of vomiting ahead.

When Jesse McCree pulled himself out of his bunk this morning, he had thought the mild weakness in his limps was just his body’s anxiety in thinking it was going to have to go for food for a while. Though it’d been a good bit since he’d last had to skip a meal, there were times in which he could feel his body shift into starvation mode, and even six hours between a meal felt like he’d gone four days.  

Slight nausea ebbed at the outskirts of his senses while he went to assuage his body’s worries, telling himself that all he needed was a good heaping plate of biscuits, gravy, sausage, and bacon and he’d be right as rain.  

Genji smiled to see his friend, having already saved him a place at their usual table near the windows. “Grabbed you the last couple cartons of chocolate milk,” he smirked, pushing them toward McCree. 

The cowboy smiled back, and pulled an extra plate of plain biscuits off his tray to push toward Genji with a few individually wrapped containers of green grape jam. “Got ya yer usual, too,” he said. 

“Tired?” Genji asked, starting to spread the sweet spread on his biscuits.  

“I think…and a mite starved. I’ll perk up once I finish this,” McCree assured him, though his stomach gave a little rumble in protest, forcing a small hot dog flavored belch out of him that he stifled behind a fist.  

Genji trusted him to know his body well enough, and sighed happily as he bit into his breakfast. McCree was thankful for the silence for once, digging in—albeit slowly—to his own food. It wasn’t going down as easily as he had wanted it to, and he tried cutting the grease with gulps of chocolate milk in between, somewhat stubbornly finishing both cartons of milk and his plate.  

Something about struggling for food for a period in your life made you reluctant to ever waste food.  

He was regretting it a tad bit as he belched again, holding his stomach that was pooched out over his belt buckle now, rumbling loud enough that even Genji heard it across the table. “You can’t possibly still be hungry.” 

“I don’t feel…urp…hungry…thas for sure…” McCree grumbled softly, belching again. He laid his head against his hand, it feeling a little heavy as it swam slightly with the movement. “Thinkin’…that was a mistake.” 

“Want to see Moira?” Genji asked, concern lacing his tone, but McCree just very slowly shook his head. 

“Nah…think I’ma go back to my room…” he said. 

His face paled ashen grey behind his facial scruff as he stood, his stomach lurching unhappily from the movement. He had to press the back of a shaking hand against his lips, feeling a surge of thickness up his throat, stopping just shy of the back of mouth.  

“Shit,” Genji cursed, moving to wrap an arm around him. Warmth was seeping through the cowboy’s clothes, and the ninja could feel hints of it through the bits of him unhindered by cybernetics. “Trash can?” 

McCree swallowed thickly and nearly gagged for it, looking desperately at the door. Genji got the message and started helping him out of the mess hall. His stomach whined, an assault of gurgling bubbles chasing it like the pops after a bottle rocket, their assault exploding in the man’s belly, and he clutched desperately at it.  

Fever and anxiety sweat was starting to bead on his forehead as he fought the need to be sick, wanting to at least make it somewhere private. His mind tortured him with the memory of the overly thick, lumpy, grey breakfast that he’d consumed, the grease that still clung to his beard, and he wretched with little warning there in the wall, a thin dribble of pre-vomit spittle drooling from his lips.

“In here…” Genji whispered, trying to usher his friend who was still very much bent helplessly at the waist over toward the empty briefing room just a few steps away.  

McCree was trembling, Genji could hear the thick sloshing in Jesse’s gut with every slight movement, joining the chorus of whining gurgles and growls that alternated between a roller coaster, to nauseating butterflies, mixing with agonizing pain. Sickening salty-sweet saliva mixed with bitter bile began to pool endlessly at the back of his throat, and as soon as he tried to swallow it, he realized his mistake.  

There was no warning as his body rejected it violently, forcing thick, chunky pale vomit through his nose and mouth, projecting it across the long table in the room. Genji released him with a curse, frantically searching for a bucket, as McCree could do little more than catch himself on the back of a chair. His stomach clenched with such force that it felt as if he was being turned inside out, a loud wet belch bringing with it more viscous puke, an oily sheen across it, the chocolate milk undigested but not mixing well with the almost curdled looking gravy. 

Genji had to open the windows, unable to actually vomit on his own anymore, the smell was making him sick all the same. Another heavy, wet splatter sounded all too loudly as McCree’s found himself unable to do little more than to just let more of the putrid sick expel from him. Unable to find a trash can, Genji just came to wrap an arm around the cowboy, holding him steady. “You will be alright.” He said gently.  

McCree wasn’t sure. The world seemed to swim around him, and his stomach was in agonizing pain with every attempt to purge, the waves becoming less and less productive, though louder on his end from the force of it. He gasped for air between waves, his heart feeling like it was racing a thousand miles a minute. 

Neither of them had heard the figure enter the doorway, shaking his head at them as he let them finish up, arms crossed. It wasn’t until McCree’s heaving seemed to have fully stopped that he spoke. 

“This isn’t a sickbay,” Gabriel’s voice sounded. 

McCree muttered a hoarse apology, barely able to keep his legs beneath him, trembling visibly like a leaf.  

“We couldn’t get further than this.” Genji defended.  

Gabe took a few steps in, before gathering the pukey cowboy into his arms in one easy movement. “Get someone to clean this up, I’ll take him to Moira.” 

McCree’s head just lulled weakly against Reyes’ shoulder, his stomach still gurgling painfully. He whimpered softly, and Gabe sighed. “Alright, alright, no need to lay it on thick, McCree. I’ve got you.” Not like he could be mad at the man anyway. Never for long. No one really could.  

Least of all Genji, who obediently made it out of the room to flag someone down to clean the room, and beat them to the med bay all the same. 

~Fin~


End file.
